


Ending The Night

by MistressMycroft



Series: DragonLock [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Shapeshifters, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Bad Puns, Dragons, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Romance, Explicit Sexual Content, Fantasy AU., Feels, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Implied/ Referenced body parts in fridge, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Magic, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Sherlock Being Sherlock, Vampires, implied/referanced overdose, implied/referenced minor original character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-12
Updated: 2015-08-20
Packaged: 2018-04-14 06:46:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4554741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MistressMycroft/pseuds/MistressMycroft
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set in a Fantasy AU: DI Greg Lestrade and Mycroft Holmes first met when Sherlock wandered onto one of NSY’s crime scenes high on drugs. After Sherlock overdoses and begins his recovery underneath this brother's watchful eye; Greg finds out there is something special about the Holmes brothers...They are both dragons. Two years later John Watson enters the picture. Things start to heat up between Greg and Mycroft. The two of them have their first major argument; resulting in......well, you'll have to read it to find out. Greg and Mycroft are now officially a couple. Greg moves in with Mycroft, and introduces him to his two teenager children....which goes splendidly of course. </p><p>More Tags to be added, with each chapter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is only the first part of a larger continuous series; which is about 4 to 5 separate parts (as of right now), with multiple chapters.  
> Chapters will be updated weekly or biweekly, as will tags, and summary.

DI Greg Lestrade and Mycroft Holmes first met when Sherlock wandered onto one of NSY’s crime scenes high on drugs. Greg threw Sherlock out, and not a day later did he find the younger man unconscious from overdose and immediately took him to the hospital.

Greg pulled out his phone and began typing.  
_Sherlock’s been admitted to hospital. Overdose._ ¬ – GL

When he didn’t receive a response he let out a string of curses.  
“Inspector Lestrade?” Greg turned to see a doctor walking towards him.  
“Yeah.”  
“Does Mr. Holmes have any next-of-kin that we can contact?” The doctor asked.  
“He has a brother. I’ve been trying to reach him; but no luck.” Greg sighed before asking, “Is he going to be ok?”  
“You did very well getting him here as soon as you did. We’re doing everything we can. The next few hours are extremely crucial. I’ll keep you informed.” The doctor explained.  
“Can I see him? He shouldn’t be alone.” 

The doctor nodded, “He’s in a coma right now.” He led Greg down the hallway towards ICU. “He’s hooked up to numerous machines right now; so it may be a bit of a shock when you first see him.” The doctor warned as he opened the door. Greg did his best to withhold a gasp when he saw Sherlock. The younger Holmes was gaunt in appearance. His heart rate was weak, but constant. He had been connected to a respirator. “If you need anything the nurses are just across the hall. I will be back later to check on him.”

“Thank you, doctor.” Greg replied, pulling a chair up to sit next to the bed. With a nod the doctor exited the room. Greg took one of Sherlock’s hands in his. “Sherlock. Buddy, you have to wake up. You have to fight.” Tears started to spill over Greg’s face. “You stupid idiot. How could you do this? I told you that if you got clean I would let you help out on cases. Why did you have to do this?” Greg stood and walked out of the room. He gave the attending on-duty nurse his card, and told her to call him if anything changed. 

He then proceeded to walk out of the hospital and get into a cab. It was raining hard by the time he got home. He closed the door to the flat behind him and leaned back against it. How could Sherlock have done this to himself, to that brilliant mind of his; and how could that bastard Mycroft Holmes not answer his damn phone. Greg slammed his fists against the door behind him. He shook his head and walked further into the empty flat. The wife was off gods-know-where, and the kids were at her parents’ house for the weekend. He sighed before dropping heavily onto the sofa. 

He looked straight ahead towards the fireplace; drifting in and out of thought. A loud crack jolted him from his stupor. _Lightning, great, just great._ He closed his eyes and let his head drop back. Another loud crack of thunder sounded and then the room went dark. _Great._ A few hours later and another crack of thunder the lights flickered back on. A buzzing noise roused him from his defeat. He answered his mobile. 

 

“Hello.”  
“Inspector Lestrade?” A female voice asked.  
“Yes, who is this?” he asked.  
“My name is Susan. I’m a nurse with Saint Michal’s Hospital. I was informed to give you a call….”  
“What’s happened?” Greg interrupted. He felt like his heart would stop at any moment.  
“He’s awake.” She replied. Greg’s eyes snapped open.  
“He’s going to be alright?” Greg asked.  
“The doctor said that he should remain in hospital for the time being, but he will survive.” She elaborated, sounding slightly irritated that he had cut her off.  
“Thank you. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” The nurse hung up.

Greg allowed himself a deep calming breath before standing. 

*****************************Hospital*******************

 

Greg walked as quickly as he could down the numerous hallways from the elevator to Sherlock’s room. When he reached to room he threw open the door. “Sherlock!” He exclaimed. 

“Inspector.” Sherlock replied from where he was sitting up in the hospital bed; only that’s what he noticed last.  
“You bloody bastard,” Greg hissed, stalking towards the figure sitting next to the bed.  
“Good evening to you as well, Inspector Lestrade.” The icy smooth voice replied.  
“I’ve been trying to reach you all day. I left at least twenty messages and texts saying that your little brother had overdosed, and that’s all you have to say. Unbelievable.” Greg yelled, throwing his arms in the air. 

“I would sincerely appreciate it if you could lower your voice,” Mycroft replied, twirling his umbrella handle with his fingertips.  
“And I would appreciate it if you would answer your bloody phone next time,” Greg replied with mock sweetness.  
“I was temporarily unavailable. You do have my assistant’s number, thus you could have called her and she would have relayed the message to me immediately.” Mycroft replied coolly.

“For all the talk you do about how concerned you are for Sherlock, I think I’m more afraid of him dying than you are.” Greg was furious, but he knew he had over-done it when the elder Holmes stopped spinning the umbrella.  
“Lestrade…” Sherlock rasped, drawing Greg’s attention. “You should leave.”  
“Fine,” Greg clenched his fists at his sides. “I’m glad that you’re going to be ok.” He said, turning to walk out.  
“Thank you.” Mycroft’s voice was barely audible to Greg’s ears when he opened the door.  
“I didn’t do it for you.” Greg paused. “If I were you, Mycroft, I would keep my distance.” Greg walked out. 

**************************

“Well done, Sherlock.” Mycroft sighed.  
“I assume you are going to try sending me to one of those facilities again.” He whispered.  
“There would be no point in trying that course of action again. No, I have had my people move your things from that dirty hole you call a flat, to mine. I believe that living with me will seem to be more punishment than rehab.” Sherlock pulled a disgusted face. “Your choice: Rehab and weekly visits from Mummy, or living with me and weekly phone calls instead.” 

“Not much of a choice.” Sherlock replied.  
“It’s settled then.”  
“Fine, get me out of here then.”  
“Unfortunately for you the doctor has decided you should remain here for a week; then he will discharge you-into my custody of course.” Mycroft smirked.

“What if I just decide to skip out instead?” Sherlock asked.  
“I have an entire security team waiting for you to try.”  
“You have the most atrocious hobbies.” The younger Holmes rolled his eyes.  
“Once you are completely clean I will pull as many strings as I need to see to it that Inspector Lestrade works with you.” Sherlock’s eyes lit up. “Only, if you get clean and stay that way.”

“Then I have a condition of my own.” Sherlock wheezed.  
“Indeed, and that would be?” Mycroft asked raising an eyebrow.  
“That I am able to find a new flat, you limit your surveillance, and cease this smothering.” Sherlock crossed his arms.  
“Very well, but only if you can keep to our original agreement.”

“Fine. I will stay with you and get clean. Then I get my own flat and work whatever cases Lestrade has that will interest me.” Sherlock agreed reluctantly.  
“And?” Mycroft tilted his head.  
“And I promise to stay clean.” He huffed in annoyance. 

“Good. Then I shall see if I can manage to shorten your stay.” The elder Holmes stood and moved the chair away from the bed. “Oh, one more thing,” Sherlock eyed his brother suspiciously. “Mummy will be stopping by tomorrow morning.”  
“Why? You said phone calls only.” Sherlock whined.  
“I said phone calls only, when you are out of hospital. You didn’t honestly think you would get away with not seeing her at all?” Mycroft smirked before turning to leave.  
“You are twisted, you know that.” Sherlock replied.  
“Pot, Kettle, little brother.” He sneered, walking out of the room.

************************A Few Days Later**********************

Greg walked into his office to find an envelope on his desk. Whoever sent it had immaculately neat handwriting. His name was scrawled across the front in calligraphy. He was curious as to whom the mysterious sender was. There were no obvious details or signs of its origin. 

“Sir, we have a body.” Sargent Donavan interrupted Greg’s musings.  
“Right….Oh, Sally, before you go running off.”  
“Yeah, boss?” She asked with a smile.  
“Do you know who this is from?” Greg held up the envelope.  
“Yep, some pretty bird. Works for that suit, she left it; said to tell you that he was trying to make amends.” Sally replied, ducking out of the office.

“Right,” Greg muttered. _Well if Mycroft thinks that he can bribe me as an apology, then he’s got another thing coming,_ Greg thought as he tore open the envelope. What he found inside was not at all what he expected. It was a simple apology note.

_Dear Detective Inspector Gregory Lestrade,_

_I apologize for not answering your calls with respect to Sherlock’s overdose. You have every right to be upset with me; especially when I specifically asked you to look out for him on my behalf. I appreciate everything you have done for him thus far. I am extremely grateful to you for saving his life, when I could not see what he was doing to himself. I sincerely hope this letter finds you well._

_With regards,  
M.H._

_P.S. Sherlock would like to inquire about the possibility of working some cold cases, whilst he is in recovery. Please do not feel that you are obligated to do so. I am merely requesting an open channel at his behest._

 

Greg couldn’t believe what he had just read: A sincere apology from Mycroft Bloody Holmes. 

“Sir, the body,” Sally urged from the doorway of his office.  
“Right. I’m coming.” He folded the letter and placed it in the pocket of his jacket as he was walking out the door. 

 

*****************************1 Week later***********************

 

The following week Greg found himself in the backseat of a nondescript black sedan, being driven halfway across London. When the car stopped and he stepped out onto the curb, a handful of files under his arm, he could not believe his eyes. He knew the elder Holmes made good money working for the government, based on the suits the man wore; but he had no idea that the man was this posh. Greg walked up the steps and knocked on the front door. A young man in a black suit (obviously security) answered and let him in. He took Greg’s coat and gun before showing Greg to the living area. 

When Greg entered the room, the sight that greeted him came as a bit of a shock. There lying in front of the fireplace were two medium sized…. dragons; one with shimmering black scales and the other a deep red. They were huddled together, their tails circling around each other in a protective gesture. Greg made the point of clearing his throat. The black dragon jumped at the sound, seemingly waking the red one. The black dragon, having recognized Greg, untangled itself from the other and approached him. Greg wasn’t sure what to do, so he just stood as still as could be and watched the two dragons for signs of aggression. The black one kept looking from Greg’s face to the files in his hand; and Greg instantly knew. 

“Sherlock?” He asked. The black dragon smiled and moved increasingly closer.  
“That’s enough, Sherlock.” Greg looked back towards the fireplace. The red dragon was gone, and in his place stood Mycroft Holmes.  
“I brought some cold case files, as requested.” He held out the files to Sherlock, but it was his brother who took them from his hands.  
“You must forgive Sherlock, he is feeling unwell and tends to revert into a more comfortable state.” Mycroft offered a brief smile. 

“Right.” Was all Greg managed to say.  
“Indeed. I am sure that our heritage may have come as a bit of a shock to you…”  
“Actually it kind of makes sense. Well, with black dragons having the reputation of being unpredictable and all.” Greg smiled.  
“Ah. Not as shocked as I am sure Sherlock hoped you would be.” He replied amused and said black dragon moved to his brother’s side. Mycroft reached a hand out and ran it over his brother’s head. 

“How’s he doing?” Greg asked.  
“Each day is a trial; but I am confident these cold cases will be enough motivation for him to stay clean. It is after all a promise of more exciting things to come.”  
“As long as he stays sober, he can have all the cold cases he wants. One year sobriety and I will give him an open homicide to solve. That’s what I’m offering.” Greg replied. Sherlock looked up at his brother, who gave him a knowing look. The dragon nodded in reply.  
“Good; don’t solve ‘em all in one go, alright? There are only so many I can give you in a month.”

“Thank you Inspector.” Mycroft replied.  
“Right. I’ll check on you in a few weeks and see how it’s going.” Greg shook Mycroft’s hand, retrieved his coat and gun, and climbed back into the nondescript black car waiting to take him home.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John Watson enters the picture, and things begin to heat up between Greg and Mycroft.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This Chapter contains Explicit Sexual Content.  
> (Also contains the snippet-In The Heat of The Moment).

CHAPTER 2

It was two years after the association began that Doctor John Watson entered the picture and began living as Sherlock’s flat-mate in 221B Baker Street. Greg was happy that Sherlock found someone who had a good influence on him and was glad to be his friend. It took some of the weight and pressure off of Greg’s shoulders, especially with his hectic personal life. 

After going through a divorce with his unfaithful wife, Greg’s biweekly meetings turned from being kidnapped to an abandoned warehouse by Mycroft to dining with him once a week in some restaurant or another. They had become quite close friends since John came into the picture. Both men seemed able to take a deep breath and relax some, knowing that Sherlock was in safe hands. 

Mycroft sat across from Greg in the coffee shop around the corner from NSY, when Greg officially asked him out on a date, the man sat there silently and blinking a few times before responding.

“A date?” He repeated.  
“Yes.” Greg smiled.  
“With me?” Mycroft tilted his head in confusion.  
“Yes, with you. Is that so hard to believe?” Greg laughed.  
“No.” Mycroft answered.  
“Great, when shall….”  
“You misunderstand me, Gregory. I mean, no, I will not go on a date with you.” Mycroft interrupted.  
“What?” Greg said a bit too loudly, causing the other patrons in the coffee shop to turn and look at them. He lowered his voice. “Why the hell not?” Greg was hoping that he had not misread the man.  
“I…. it is not that I do not find you attractive, but I cannot be in a romantic relationship at this time.” Mycroft sipped his coffee.  
“Can’t be….Who said anything about a romantic relationship? I was only asking for dinner, we do that all the time. Only I just wish we could leave your obnoxious little brother out of our conversations for once.”  
“I am sorry, Gregory. I cannot allow you to see me socially.” He set his cup down on the table in front of him, hands clasped tightly around it.  
“Sorry to burst your bubble Mr. Holmes, but just what do you think we’ve been doing since Sherlock’s been running about with John?” Greg asked. 

“Gregory, what you are describing is the basis for a romantic relationship.” Mycroft sighed.  
“If that’s true, then I hate to break it to you Mycroft; but we’ve been dating for the better part of six months.” Greg snorted.  
“I…No, we have been meeting to discuss Sherlock, nothing more.”  
“You’re in denial.”  
“If you have been under some misguided illusion that these meetings were dates, then I regret to inform you that I am not interested. “

“I never said they were. I only meant that it’s not really a big jump, having dinner and discussing Sherlock, to having dinner and not talking about him.” Greg was frustrated by now.  
“One dinner, that is all. Nothing after that, I will not be persuaded to see you socially.” Mycroft replied.  
“Really…..” Mycroft nodded, “We’ll see about that. Now I have to get back to the Yard.” Greg smiled as he stood and put his coat on. Mycroft’s only reply was avoiding eye contact and a nod. Greg shook his head. “Good day, Mr. Holmes.” 

****************************************  
“Sherlock, please just look at the cases I brought you and I promise that the next big murder case that comes along is yours.” Greg pleaded, looking at John for help. John looked at his flat-mate with a stern expression, which made the consulting detective roll his eyes in response.  
“Fine, but I want first look at the scene and evidence.” Sherlock replied.  
“Great. Thanks.” Greg said running a hand through his hair. The detective looked away.

“Oh, God. What did I do to warrant a visit from you?!” Sherlock whined. Greg looked at him with a confused look on his face. John only shook his head.  
“Such hostility, brother mine.” Greg turned around to see the one and only Mycroft Holmes standing in the doorway, “Inspector.” He nodded at Greg.  
“Mr. Holmes.” Greg replied stiffly. They had hardly spoken since Greg had brought up the subject of wanting to date the man.  
“What do you want, Mycroft?” Sherlock avoided looking at his brother, as if ignoring his presence would make him disappear. Greg moved to sit by John on the sofa. He wanted a good seat for what almost always turned into a fight between the two Holmes brothers. 

“I merely wished to drop by and remind you that our parents are in town and that your presence will be required at dinner tomorrow night.” Sherlock snorted, “John, Mummy has extended an invitation to you as well.”  
“I’m assuming that by invitation, you mean politely demands that I attend?” John asked.  
“Not at all, you may decline if you wish.” Mycroft replied.  
“Aren’t you forgetting someone, brother mine?” Sherlock sneered, inclining his head in Greg’s direction, “You forgot to invite Graham.” 

“Greg!” Three voices shouted at once. Sherlock’s expression turned smug as realization came crashing down on the others in the room. John and Greg looked at Mycroft with amused smiles. The elder Holmes promptly turned and started walking out of the room, his back ramrod straight and gripping his umbrella tightly.  
“Mycroft, you forgot to ask your boyfriend to come to dinner!” Sherlock shouted after him, the smug smile on his face getting bigger as he heard the front door slam.  
“You really shouldn’t have done that, Sherlock. Now, you have upset your brother and thoroughly embarrassed both of them.” John said. Greg looked at John with a straight face, before bursting out in laughter. The smile fell from Sherlock’s face.  
“What is so funny?” John asked.  
“Did you see the look on his face when he realized what he said?” Greg laughed. 

 

****************************  
That evening Greg received a formal invite to Mummy Holmes’ dinner party. He texted John, who said that he would be using the time away from Sherlock to go on a date; the second text stating that he was going to try to get laid without interference from the consulting detective. Greg laughed to himself at the thought of Sherlock inadvertently cock-blocking his best friend. 

Greg then sent a text off to Mycroft saying that he would be unable to make it to Mummy’s dinner. He didn’t get a reply. Not a surprise really, they had been avoiding each other for over two weeks. They hadn’t even talked on the phone once to discuss the younger Holmes. Greg put his phone down and headed for some much needed sleep. 

 

Four days later he received a text from Mycroft.  
_Sending a car, we need to talk._ -MH.  
Greg scowled at the text, before replying.  
_Fine. 7PM_ -GL.  
Once again he received no answer. 

Greg spent most of his day filling out paperwork and putting together evidence for court, from the cold cases that Sherlock had solved. Mycroft’s message was nagging at the back of his mind all day. He could not decide what exactly the man wished to talk about. Had he reconsidered Greg’s offer? Somehow he doubted it. Did he just want to ask about his brother? That seemed more likely to Greg. 

Around six-fifty Greg found himself standing outside NSY on the curb, waiting for the sleek black car that he knew would be there any moment. Said car pulled up; it was five minutes late. Mycroft’s car was never late. The driver exited the car and pulled open the back door for Greg. When the door shut behind him, Greg realized that he wasn’t alone in the backseat. 

“You’re late.” Greg said, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.  
“Apologies. Although it may appear that I have an unlimited supply of cars, I do not.” Mycroft replied.  
“Is that your way of saying that the spare is in the shop?” Greg asked with a small smile.  
“Indeed.” He nodded, but did not elaborate. Not that Greg expected him to.  
“So. What was it you wanted to talk about?” Greg asked fidgeting in his seat once more.

“You wanted dinner, did you not?” He asked, though he continued to look out the window with a bored expression.  
“You mean… as a date?” Greg hesitated to ask.  
“Indeed.”  
“Seriously?” He couldn’t believe it.  
“Yes.” Mycroft looked at him, “Forewarning, this will be the one and only time.”  
“We’ll see about that.” Greg smiled. The car came to a halt outside of their usual meeting place. 

They exited the car. The hostess seated them in the back of the restaurant, away from prying eyes. The waiter brought a bottle of wine to the table. Greg knew it was costing the other man a fortune. Mycroft poured the wine.

 

“You’ll have to forgive me; I took the liberty of ordering for us before I left the office.” Mycroft replied.  
“That’s fine. You know what I like.” Greg hoped that it didn’t sound like he was flirting.  
“Indeed.” A small smile crept over Mycroft’s face.

 

*********************************A few weeks later*******************************

“Unless you have a case Lestrade, we have nothing to discuss.” Sherlock sighed loudly.  
“Your brother has missed our weekly meeting! He didn’t even have his assistant call to say he needed to cancel. What else am I to ‘deduce’, other than something is wrong?” Greg asked exasperated.  
“Why do you care?” Sherlock asked, eyeing the older man with suspicion.  
“I care because he’s my friend.” Greg answered. 

“Mycroft doesn’t do friends.” Sherlock sneered.  
“Just like you, until John came along.” Greg shot back.  
“Are you claiming to be Mycroft’s… ‘John’?” Sherlock asked, raising his eyebrows.  
“Yeah, sure. Fine. Whatever.” The older man replied, waving his hands through the air in exasperation. 

Sherlock looked at the man a few seconds longer. His eyes narrowed in concentration, before breaking contact and standing. He moved across the room to find pen and paper. Once located, he proceeded to scribble something down and fold said paper. He then walked back towards Greg, to stand directly in front of him. 

“Here.” He handed Greg the paper.  
“What is it?”  
“You wanted to know where Mycroft was, and that’s the address.” Sherlock slumped back down into his chair.  
“Thank you. That wasn’t so hard now, was it?” Greg smiled, unfolding the paper. 

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”  
“What do you mean?” Greg’s smile faded into a frown.  
“This won’t end well.” Sherlock muttered.  
“Right.” Greg replied confused by the younger man’s statement.  
“Good day, Lestrade.” Sherlock waved a hand at him in dismissal. Greg just shook his head. Child, definitely petulant child.

 

************************

When he reached the destination Sherlock had written down, Greg realized he may have made an error. The address was a residence, not an office, as he had assumed. Greg stepped out of the cab, paid the driver, and slowly walked up the front steps. He took a deep breath and gathered himself together before pressing the button for the doorbell. He heard movement from inside the flat, but no one came to the door. Greg pushed the button again. This time he heard a crackling noise come from the intercom, located next to the doorbell. It continued for a moment before a voice answered. 

 

“Hello?” Was that Mycroft? Greg wondered. The voice seemed strained somehow, almost as if the man was in pain.  
“Mycroft?” Greg asked.  
“Gre…Gregory? What….How did you get this address?” Definitely Mycroft.  
“You missed our meeting and I hadn’t heard from you or your assistant. I was worried something had happened to you.” Greg explained.  
“Anthea’s out with the flu. I was…not feeling well either; thus I forgot to inform you….” The speaker cut out.  
“Mycroft? Mycroft!” Greg asked, concerned. Something about the man’s voice and speech seemed off to him. Not normal for Mycroft Holmes to stutter or forget anything. 

An incessant buzzing sound roused Greg from his musings. It was the door; he was being let in. Greg quickly grabbed the door and entered the flat. He stopped in the main entry way, letting the door swing shut behind him. The lock automatically clicked into place. The room felt extremely cold compared to outside; the air smelled of something sweet. The further into the flat he walked, the stronger the scent became, and the colder it got. Greg found the elder Holmes standing in front of a large empty fireplace. 

“Mycroft? Is everything all right?” Greg asked.  
“Fine… You’ve seen me, now go.” The taller man turned to face him. 

Greg had to hold back a gasp, as he took in the other man’s appearance. Mycroft wore only pants and a loose-fitting house coat. Not at all what you would expect from a man who wears bespoke suits like a second skin. Something was not right. 

“You look like crap, Mycroft. Have you seen a doctor?” Greg asked, stepping closer.  
“I have; and I was assured that it is something that must run its course.” Mycroft replied. 

As he observed the man, Greg could see the constant fidgeting of Mycroft’s posture. The taller man kept switching his weight from one foot to the other and his hands were constantly clenching and unclenching at his side. Two thoughts ran through Greg’s mind. One being that Mycroft was extremely nervous and agitated; or two, he was fighting very hard to maintain his self-control. The latter seemed more likely. When Greg moved forward again, Mycroft took a step back, maintaining the distance between them. 

“You’re lying. This isn’t some flu you are fighting, it’s yourself.” Greg replied, moving closer and closer to the taller man until Mycroft’s back was against the wall. Mycroft turned his head away and closed his eyes. He tensed as if in pain, “What’s going on, Mycroft?” Greg asked harshly.  
“Please…Greg…ory….just leave.” Mycroft stuttered. Greg gasped as the sweet smell hit him again. He looked at Mycroft.  
“Is that you?” Greg breathed, leaning into the taller man.  
“Gregory…please…” Mycroft whispered as the older man leaned in further to bury his nose in Mycroft’s neck. Greg inhaled deeply. The other man went completely still. 

 

“In the academy we were told that a dragon in heat is a dangerous dragon.” Greg replied, “Are you a danger to me, Mycroft?”  
“I…Not if you…leave.” He breathed.  
“And if I don’t?” Greg asked, moving back to see the other man’s face. He let out a noise that was between a gasp and a hiss. Mycroft’s eyes were completely dilated: Hardly any blue visible, and he was looking at Greg as if he wished to devour him.

“Last chance…Gregory.”  
“I’m not leaving.” Greg stood his ground until he saw the feral look on Mycroft’s face. He stumbled backwards in fear catching his leg on something. He was sent sprawling to the floor on his back. “Mine.” It was only just loud enough for Greg to hear it; as the taller man came towards Greg and straddled him.  
“Mycroft.” Greg gasped when he felt the man’s arousal against his belly. 

“I’m going…to use…you Gregory.” He paused to lean down and whisper into the older man’s ear, “Use you…like a breeding stud.” Greg let out a moan.  
“Whatever you want.”  
“Then follow me.” Mycroft moved off the man. He stood, and made his way to the staircase behind Greg. 

Greg took a minute to just breathe. Standing, he followed Mycroft’s path up the stairs. It wasn’t the sweet scent that led him to the upstairs bedroom, but the trail of clothing strewn about the floor. Mycroft must be desperate if he was treating any of his clothing so poorly. When he reached the bedroom, the door had been left ajar. Greg walked in and closed the door behind him. He moved towards the bed and thought his heart might give out at the sight before him. Mycroft lay in the middle of the bed, legs splayed wide. His eyes were closed, his bottom lip captured between his teeth, and one hand wrapped around his cock.

“Gregory…” He moaned.  
“God you’re beautiful.” Greg murmured. Mycroft’s eyes snapped open.  
“Then strip.” Mycroft hissed, and Greg complied. Once divested of his clothing, Greg slowly crawled his way up Mycroft’s body. The man let out a low, desperate moan.  
“You truly are beautiful, Mycroft. I could spend days just looking at you. All these freckles…”Greg sighed as he trailed a hand up and down Mycroft’s arm and shoulder. 

“I was…hoping you…would do more…than look.” Mycroft’s hand left his own cock in favor of grasping Greg’s.  
“Oh.” Greg threw his head back as Mycroft pumped his shaft. It had been so long since anything but his own hand had touched his body. 

Wanting to return the favor, he reached down and took a hold of Mycroft’s cock. As he began pumping, Greg was rewarded with a string of gasps and moans from the man beneath him. Greg watched as an expression of pleasure rolled over Mycroft’s face. 

“Please…Gregory…” Mycroft whined.  
“What is it, Mycroft? What do you need?” Greg asked as the hand on his own cock began to falter and then stop. Greg stilled his own hand as he waited for an answer.  
“Fuck me.” Mycroft moved his legs up to encase Greg between them. 

“All right. Do we need…”  
“No. Dragon’s produce their own….” Mycroft let out another whine as Greg shifted his hips down. He settled within the cradle of the taller man’s hips. Mycroft was breathing hard and letting out little moans of satisfaction as Greg moved his hand down to the man’s hole. When he pushed one finger in, Mycroft let out a cry of pleasure.  
“You’re…wet.” Greg mumbled in disbelief. 

“Naturally produced…Ah… when…Oh…in heat.” Mycroft moaned. Greg responded by sliding in another finger. Slowly he began to thrust them in and out.  
“Please…Just…” Mycroft pleaded.  
“But…I don’t want to hurt you.”  
“You won’t…now please.” Mycroft shifted his hips further on to Greg’s fingers. Ignoring the man’s protests, Greg inserted a third finger. He angled the thrusts just right, hitting the prostate.  
“Oh…Greg…gory.” Mycroft cried, his cock giving a spurt of pre-cum. 

“Oh, god that’s hot.” Greg gasped, before removing his fingers. “Do we need…um…”Greg felt stupid for bumbling like a school boy, “Condoms?”  
“I know… you’re clean.”  
“What about you?” Greg asked.  
“I’ve…never…” Mycroft moved away, blushing with embarrassment. He opened the drawer of the bedside table, reaching inside he withdrew a foil packet. 

“You’re…you never had…sex?” Greg asked quietly, bringing a hand up to caress the man’s hair.  
“No…I was twenty three when…I had my last heat.”  
“Jesus, Mycroft. You’ve been on suppressants that long?”  
“Yes.” He whispered, handing the packet to the older man. 

“That’s…not healthy.” He took the packet with one hand and continued to run the other through Mycroft’s hair.  
“I know…Doctor…took me off them.”  
“Good.” Greg replied placing a chaste kiss to the man’s cheek.  
“She said…I…” Tears slipped from Mycroft’s eyes.  
“Hey. It’s ok…tell me.” Greg encouraged.  
Mycroft turned back to look at him, “I would…die if I continued…”  
“Oh….Mycroft.”  
“I…couldn’t…leave Sherlock…alone.” Mycroft replied blinking back tears.  
“He won’t be alone, and neither will you.” Greg leaned down and pressed his lips to Mycroft’s. 

The kiss started off chaste, but quickly deepened; Mycroft’s tongue dancing with his. They pulled apart for air. The intensity of their desire crackled in the space between them. Greg tore open the packet and rolled the condom over his hardened flesh, before returning his attention back to his lover. 

“Ready?” Greg asked, cupping Mycroft’s cheek.  
“Yes.” Mycroft gasped. Greg reached between them and lined up his cock. He pressed forward slowly and gently. Mycroft’s eyes closed, a quiet moan escaping his lips.  
“Oh…” Greg gasped as he slowly pushed in further. Once fully seated inside, Greg stilled; waiting. “You alright?”  
“Perfect.” Mycroft smiled, opening his eyes to meet those of his lover, “Please.” He encouraged.  
“Whatever you want, beautiful.” Greg smiled, placing another kiss on the taller man’s lips. As they deepened the kiss Mycroft canted his hips upward, earning him a groan from his lover. Fuck.  
“Please.” Mycroft chuckled against Greg’s lips.

Greg pulled back from the taller man, his cock slipping almost free. Just the tip remained inside his gasping lover. Greg pushed back in until his ballocks rested on the swell of his lover’s arse. Mycroft locked his arms and ankles around Greg’s back, encouraging him. 

“More.” He whispered.  
“With pleasure.” Greg replied, pulling out and thrusting back in with a little more effort.  
“Ah….Yes…please Gregory.” Mycroft moaned, raking his nails up Greg’s back in ecstasy. 

Greg began thrusting at a much more rigorous pace. Mycroft cried out in rapturous pleasure. His abdominal muscles began tightening, white hot heat curling in the pit of his stomach.

“Please….Gregory…” Mycroft moaned.  
“What is it….tell me what you need.” Greg panted.  
“Close….please….so…” Mycroft pleaded as his orgasm began to crest.  
“Fuck…yes…almost…” Greg groaned when his own climax threatened to overwhelm him. His thrust starting to become erratic, pounding the taller man’s prostate relentlessly. 

“Gregory….I’m…” Mycroft closed his eyes and threw his head back as his climax rippled through him. His hands clutched desperately at the older man’s shoulders.  
“Fuck. Mycroft.” Greg growled. Mycroft’s climax caused his inner muscles to grip the older man’s cock like a vice; his own cock releasing stream after stream onto his stomach and that of his lover. 

Greg fell over the edge, crying his pleasure to the ceiling; eyes screwed shut in sweet agony. Mycroft whimpered as his lover’s thrusts stuttered and then finally ceased with their mutual climax. Greg rolled off to the side in order to avoid crushing the younger man. They lay next to each other, both panting with the effort of their shared release. Mycroft opened his eyes to look at his newly found lover, only to find Greg staring back at him in awe. 

“That was….” Greg smiled.  
“Please don’t…” Mycroft cut him off and turned to look away.  
“Amazing.” Greg finished. Mycroft’s head whipped around, his eyes wide, and mouth agape.  
“Wh..what?” He asked. Greg rid himself of the soiled condom, dropping it into the bin next to the bed.  
“I said, that was amazing.” Greg replied. He rolled off the bed into a standing position and made his way to the en-suit.  
“I….really?” Mycroft asked as Greg returned with a wet flannel.  
“God. You really don’t know how to take a complement, do you?” He laughed, moving to straddle Mycroft’s thighs. 

Mycroft whimpered as Greg drew the wet flannel over the man’s sensitive skin, cleaning up the evidence of his obvious enjoyment. Mycroft didn’t know how to respond, so he drew Greg into a kiss. He poured everything he had into that kiss, and when they parted for air Mycroft smiled. For knowing that at last, he’d been filled in the way his body craved. In that moment he decided to never again deny his body’s natural urges ever again, for he knew that Gregory would be there…….

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. I hope you have enjoyed this chapter. Please feel free to leave Kudos and constructive criticism.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The plot thickens as Greg learns more about Mycroft's previous intimacies, and why the man truly believes that caring is not an advantage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is full of angst, fluff, and if you squint really hard...a little bit of smut.

_{Three months and several “Not Dates” later}_

“Is this what you call ‘not being in a romantic relationship’?” Greg asked looking at the man lying next to him in bed.  
“You have made your point, Gregory.” Mycroft replied with a smile.  
“Have I?” He smirked.  
“Several times.” Mycroft smiled back.  
“Should I make my point again, just to be sure?” Greg moved to kiss him, but Mycroft had been too quick and began to roll over to get out of the bed. Greg frowned, why had Mycroft gone from red hot to ice cold instantaneously, “My, is everything all right?”

“Fine, I just wish to clean up before retiring for the evening.” He stood and walked towards the en-suite bathroom. Greg watched him go, his eyes trailing from the man’s neck to his luscious backside. His smile was unsure. He had managed to get Mycroft to allow him to take him to bed numerous times since the man’s heat, but he still felt that his lover was keeping him at arm’s length. Greg shook his head. He just didn’t understand the man; he was a walking contradiction. Mycroft exited the bathroom wearing his customary satin pajamas and robe. When finished tying the belt he looked up, his face held a mixed expression of surprise and confusion. It disappeared instantly to be replaced with his usual unreadable mask. 

“Don’t do that.” Greg said, sitting up as Mycroft approached the bed.  
“What? Did I do something wrong?” Mycroft asked turning to look at him as he sat on his side of the bed.  
“You know what. You’re doing it again, Mycroft. You’re putting your mask back on and pushing me away.” Greg said propping himself up against the headboard.  
“Mask? Gregory, what on earth are you referring to?” Mycroft raised an eyebrow.  
“Just now, when you walked out of the bathroom you looked at me….well, you looked at me like you weren’t expecting me to be here. It was like you were confused and then your face changed back to that unreadable mask you present to everyone else.”

“I did not realize,” he replied, looking away.  
“Yes, you do. Please just tell me what you are thinking. Don’t put those walls back up; I tried so very hard to tear them down these last few months.” Greg reached a hand out and placed it on his lover’s shoulder.  
“Don’t.” Mycroft whispered and Greg quickly withdrew his hand.  
“Please, just tell me what I did wrong?” Greg asked quietly  
“Nothing, you did nothing wrong.” Mycroft whispered back.

“Then what is it?”  
“I…I told you when we first started this that I did not wish for a relationship. I cannot continue to do this, Gregory. It is too painful.” Mycroft stood.  
“Oh, god. Mycroft, did I hurt you? I know that I was a bit rough, but I didn’t think…”  
“It’s not the sex, Gregory! It’s me; I cannot put myself through this again!”  
“What the bloody hell are you going on about?” Greg asked, climbing over the covers to where Mycroft was standing, grasping him by the shoulder, and turning him around.  
“Loving someone! “ Mycroft replied loudly. A look of pain and embarrassment crossed his face.  
“Love….You’re afraid of loving me?” Greg asked.  
“Yes. I cannot do it again, not after…” Mycroft’s knees gave out and he collapsed forward. Greg grasped him tightly and pulled him onto the bed so he wouldn’t fall to the floor. 

“My…..” Greg hesitated as the man in his arms clung to him.  
“Please…I can’t.” He whispered.  
“We’ll talk in the morning, yeah.” Greg whispered softly.  
“Tomorrow.” Mycroft’s answer was almost inaudible as he shifted into his small dragon form. Greg held him to his chest. He got into bed and pulled the blankets up around them. He cuddled the small dragon under the covers. 

 

*********************The Following Moring**********************************************

 

Greg woke to find the space next to him empty. He got up and used the bathroom before getting dressed and heading down stairs. He found Mycroft sitting at the kitchen table with his morning tea. In front of him sat a photograph. He looked up as Greg entered and sat down adjacent to him. Greg looked at the picture; he recognized the young ginger as Mycroft, but not the young handsome blond. 

“Who was he?” Greg nodded towards the photograph.  
“His name was James.” Mycroft sipped his tea.  
“You were in love.” Greg replied.  
“Yes.”  
“What happened?”  
“He died.” Mycroft replied.  
“May I ask how, or would that be insensitive?”  
“It’s fine.” Mycroft set his cup down and took a breath before continuing, “We met when I first started working for the government. He was an agent for MI-6; I was hired to be his handler.”  
“I knew it, you’re M.” Greg replied. When Mycroft looked away Greg realized his mistake and moved to hold Mycroft’s hand, “Sorry.”

“In a sense you are correct. He was a double-0 and it was my job to keep him safe during missions. He and I began to grow closer as time went on. We became lovers and eventually civil partners. He was put on an assignment that he later became obsessed with. I tried to warn him….. He did not listen. I sent him on his next mission, knowing that he was out of control and I got him killed.” Mycroft whispered the last part.

“It’s not your fault, Mycroft. You can’t blame….”  
“But it was, I didn’t report him or have him pulled off the case when I should have.” Mycroft pulled his hand away.  
“How long?” Greg asked.  
“Fifteen years.” Mycroft replied.  
“Fifteen years….bloody hell, Mycroft. You’ve been alone for fifteen years?” Greg was shocked. He looked at Mycroft. The man had been in mourning for that long, no wonder it had been a nightmare trying to get to know him on a more personal level.  
“Yes!” He stood and looked at Greg. The mask was back in place, “I think you should leave.”  
“No.” Greg stood. He was not going to just stand idly by and let the man he loved…oh god…he loved Mycroft. No, he would stay and talk some sense into the man. 

“Please do not make a scene, Gregory.” Mycroft turned to walk towards the kitchen.  
“My, I want you to know that…..”  
“Don’t! Please do not say it!” Mycroft hissed.  
“I love you!” Greg all but yelled. Mycroft stopped in his tracks and spun to face Greg.  
“Why? Why did you have to do this?” Mycroft asked.  
“Why? Because you made me: all you ever do is work and worry about Sherlock. You never do anything for yourself. For once can’t you just let someone else do the caring for you?” Greg replied. He turned and walked to the front door. “Let me know when you decide to come back to the world of the living.” And with that, Greg left, slamming the door behind him.

 

********************************Two weeks Later***************************************

 

“Mycroft! Don’t you have something more important to do, like starting a war or something?” Sherlock asked, flopping down in his chair.  
“Sherlock, could you for once be nice to your brother?” John asked.  
“No.” Sherlock replied.  
“Just think it over, brother mine.” Mycroft stood and left 221B. When he opened the front door he was almost hit by a fist getting ready to knock on the door. Luckily, Mycroft had fast reflexes and dodged it just in time. The man trying to knock tumbled forward almost falling to the floor, but recovered just in time. 

“What the bloody hell is wrong wi….” The man started but upon seeing Mycroft’s face he stopped.  
“Detective Inspector.” Mycroft nodded before continuing on his way out the door.  
“Myc…Mr. Holmes, a word. Please.” Greg emphasized the last.  
“I am terribly sorry, Detective Inspector but I am late for a very important meeting.” Mycroft continued to walk to the waiting nondescript black car.  
“I’ll only take a minute of your time, Mr. Holmes.” Greg replied. He noticed how Mycroft’s shoulders slumped in defeat.

“Very well.” Mycroft opened the back door on the driver’s side and got in. Greg followed and closed the door. “What is it that you thought so import…omf.” Greg settled himself in the man’s lap and pressed his lips against his own. Mycroft brought his hands up to Greg’s arms with the intention to shove him away, but he felt himself giving into the feeling of how right it felt to be in the man’s arms once again. He opened his mouth to Greg’s wandering tongue, making the other groan in surprise and pleasure. The kiss heated up quickly and they began tearing at each other’s clothing, both desperate to feel the others skin under their hands. Greg loosened Mycroft’s tie and unbuttoned the collar of his shirt. He moved his lips along Mycroft’s jaw and down his neck. 

“Gregory,” Mycroft moaned.  
“Yes, My,” He whispered into his lover’s ear.  
“I…We cannot do this.” He replied but made no move to push Greg away.  
“Yes, we can. All you have to do is let go. Let me take care of you. Let me love you.” Greg punctuated each with a kiss until he had reached the man’s lips again.  
“I don’t know if I can.” Mycroft whispered against his lips.  
“I love you, Mycroft Holmes, and nothing you say can change that.”  
“I don’t love you.” Mycroft replied. Greg pulled away and looked Mycroft directly in the eye. Mycroft was biting his bottom lip and his eyes shifted away and then back again. It would have been almost unnoticeable if Greg hadn’t been taking all the time they spent together to study the other man’s habits.  
“You, Mycroft Holmes, are a liar.” Greg whispered.  
“What?” Mycroft blinked multiple times as if he was trying to compute what had just been said to him.  
“You heard me.” Greg hadn’t moved from where he was perched in the other man’s lap.  
“I…no one has ever…how?” Mycroft stuttered. 

“You have a tell.”  
“No I do not.” He replied, as if the very idea of it was absurd.  
“You bite your bottom lip and try very hard not to avoid eye contact. I doubt even Sherlock has ever noticed.” Greg smirked.  
“Do I?” he asked, repeating the gesture.  
“You’re doing it right now.” Mycroft released his bottom lip immediately and fixed Greg with an intense icy stare. 

“God, do you know how beautiful your eyes are?” Greg asked as he admired the shocking blue that stared back at him. Mycroft’s eyebrow rose. “I could drown in them.”  
“You are a hopeless romantic, Gregory Lestrade.” Mycroft reached a hand up and cupped his cheek.  
“For you, definitely.” Greg placed his hand over his lover’s.  
“I cannot promise that loving me will be an easy task, nor can I guarantee your safety if you and I continue this relationship.” Mycroft warned.  
“I’ll take what I can get, and to hell with the consequences.” Greg grabbed him by the lapels of his suit and pulled him in for another kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you have enjoyed the story thus far, only one more chapter to go before the plot really gets thick....all will be revealed soon...promise.
> 
> Please feel free to leave kudos and constructive criticism.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Greg and Mycroft are now officially a couple. Greg moves in with Mycroft and introduces him to his two teenager children....which goes splendidly of course.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Contains: original characters, implied/referenced body parts in the fridge, Implied/referenced homophobia, Sherlock being a little shit, feels, and a horrible pun...or two.

In the weeks following the incident in the back of Mycroft’s car, they had moved in together, and began talking about bringing Greg’s two teenage kids into the picture. Greg’s ex-wife took immediate offense when she found out that Greg was seeing a man. She refused to talk to him or let him have contact with the kids for a week after that. Greg imagined it had more to do with his boyfriend being a better catch than any of hers. He laughed every time he thought about it. 

When she finally calmed down enough, Greg convinced her to let Stephanie and Marcus to stay the weekend with Greg and Mycroft. So, that Friday afternoon Mycroft sent a car to pick the two teens up from school. Greg had sent them a text saying as much, because he had been called in at the last minute for a homicide. 

When the two teens arrived at the flat they were greeted by Mycroft’s security.  
“You want to check our bags? For what? You want to make sure I’ve done all my homework?” Stephanie sassed. The suit gave her an unamused look as he shuffled through her papers.  
“Wow. This is crazy. It’s like Da’s dating the PM or something.” Marcus joked.  
“They’re clean.” The suit replied opening the door.  
“Gee, Thanks.” Stephanie replied snatching her school bag out of the security guard’s hands. They closed the door quietly behind the two teens. 

“Oi. Da didn’t say anything about this guy being this Posh.” Marcus laughed.  
“It’s a museum, I’m afraid to sit on the furniture.” Stephanie replied.  
“Feel free to scuff up the floors and destroy the décor as you see fit. I do.” A voice said from the living room sofa. The teens moved further into the room.  
“Please tell me you’re not Da’s boyfriend.” Marcus sighed as the two teens rounded the sofa. 

“No! God, no!” the stranger replied, leaning forward and looking at the two curiously.  
“You’re Sherlock, aren’t you?” Stephanie asked with a grin.  
“Indeed. Though I am curious as to why you two are here?”  
“Well, Da sent…”

“Sherlock!” The three of them looked up to see Mycroft standing in the entry way. “I believe you have a case that you should be attempting to solve.” He raised an eyebrow in challenge.  
“Dull. Lestrade can solve it himself.” Sherlock huffed, leaning back into the sofa.  
“On your way out please leave the keycard you stole, with security.” Mycroft replied coolly, whilst hanging up his coat and placing his umbrella in its holder near the door.  
“Fine.” Sherlock grumbled as he lifted himself off the sofa with a lazy cat-like grace. He paused at the door and looked at Mycroft. “One question.” He said, nodding towards the two teens. 

“I am merely lending a helpful hand to the Detective inspector. A favor for all the times he’s looked after you.” Mycroft replied, setting down his briefcase.  
“I don’t believe you.” Sherlock remarked, regarding his brother with a calculating gaze.  
“Goodbye, Brother Mine.” Mycroft ushered him out the door. Once closed, Mycroft took a deep breath, closing his eyes to momentarily gather himself. 

 

“A favor? Ta’ for that.” Marcus replied. Mycroft’s eyes snapped open and he turned around.  
“Forgive me, I was simply trying to avoid dramatics from my brother. This is not how I hoped our first meeting would go.”  
“You use a lot of words. Do you realize that?” Stephanie asked.  
“Unfortunately unavoidable for a man in my position to do anything less.” Mycroft replied.  
“You’re Da’s boyfriend?” Marcus asked skeptically.

“Indeed.” He paused, “Am I to gather from your expressions and attitude that Gregory neglected to tell you anything about me?” Not that he really needed to ask; he had already deduced that they had no idea what to expect when they arrived.  
“All we got was a name and a quick explanation of the situation this afternoon.” Marcus hissed.  
“You have a really nice car.” Stephanie interjected trying to diffuse the situation.  
“I was in an important meeting this afternoon, otherwise I would have been there in person to pick you up from school.” Mycroft replied.

“You have any rules for this museum?” Marcus asked.  
“I request that you do not place your shoes on any of the furniture.”  
“Anything else?” He challenged.  
“I would appreciate it if you left the upstairs master bedroom and office in peace.”  
“So if I was dying for a snack…”

“The kitchen is all yours; but please do not use the oven or stove without permission.”  
“Cool. Mum doesn’t let us near any appliances either.” Marcus replied.  
“Not that she would know how to use any of them.” Stephanie mocked.  
“I confess that I do not cook often, myself.” Mycroft walked further into the living room.  
“So….about that snack?” Marcus asked with a small smile.

“Ah, yes. If you would follow me,” He led them through the house to the kitchen.  
“How can you have a kitchen like this and not cook?” Stephanie gasped, running her hands over the granite counter tops and Marcus opened various drawers and cabinets.  
“Now I get why Da’s dating him; for his kitchen.” Marcus laughed. Stephanie looked at Mycroft and giggled. Mycroft tilted his head and looked at them in confusion. 

“Da never told you?” Stephanie asked, amused.  
“Obviously, Sis.” Marcus rolled his eyes.  
“Please enlighten me.”  
“Da loves to cook. Grandma Rosey taught him. He’s a brilliant cook.”  
“When he has the time. Not that we blame him for mum’s crappy roast.” Marcus said with a hint of cynicism. 

“I see.” Mycroft replied. Marcus went to the fridge and opened it. He let out a surprised yelp and slammed the door shut. “You ah…. There’s…please tell me it’s a sick joke.” Marcus stuttered. Mycroft moved to the fridge. Marcus stepped back to stand next to his sister.  
Mycroft opened the door, before quickly shutting it again. “Dear Lord.” He exclaimed. One hand clutching the door handle tightly.  
“You didn’t know that was there?” Marcus asked. 

“No.” Mycroft closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. If he didn’t spend so much time and effort trying to keep his little brother alive, he would throttle him. He let out a deep sigh when he felt the buzz of his mobile. He fished the bothersome thing out of his pocket. “Give me one reason not to sick mummy on you, Sherlock.” Mycroft answered venomously.  
“Oh, good, you got my gift.” Sherlock laughed.  
“Not amusing. Couldn’t you have kept it at Baker Street or Saint Barts?” Mycroft asked exasperated.  
“Where would the fun be in that?” 

“Sherlock…we have a case….” Mycroft could hear John talking to Greg in the background.  
“Put the good doctor on the phone, Sherlock.” Mycroft hissed.  
“He’s busy…” Sherlock sneered, looking towards the man in question.  
“Sherlock, give me that bloody phone and help Greg.” John chided, taking the phone. “Hello?”  
“Dr. Watson, if you would be so kind as to ask Miss. Hooper to refrain from giving my darling brother any more body parts for the time being; I would be extremely grateful.” Mycroft responded in agitation.  
“Jesus Christ! Don’t tell me that you found it in your fridge?” John exclaimed.  
“Found what?” Mycroft heard Greg ask in the background.  
“Unfortunately I was not the first to discover it.” 

“Sherlock, what did you put in your brother’s fridge?” Greg’s voice increased in volume with his concern.  
“If you didn’t find it, who did?” John suppressed a giggle.  
“Gregory’s son and daughter.”  
“Oh, shit.” John gulped.  
“What?” Greg yelled in the background.  
“I said, a sever…” Sherlock began to explain.  
“Um…hold on.” Mycroft waited impatiently as he heard muffled voices talking in the background. There was some noise, muffled shouting, and then a click. Mycroft looked at his phone. He had been hung up on. 

“Sherlock?” Stephanie asked.  
“Indeed. His idea of a joke. Though it is more likely that he was told to remove it from Baker Street and he thought it a brilliant idea to put it in my fridge instead.” Mycroft shuddered.  
“He do that often?” Marcus asked.  
“Unfortunately.”  
“Well, at least life in this house won’t be boring.” Stephanie giggled. Suddenly a loud whooshing noise (The Tardis) filled the room. 

“What is that?” Mycroft asked, looking around cautiously.  
“Sorry. That’s my ring tone.” Marcus pulled out his phone. “It’s Da….Hello.” He answered. “Yah, he’s right here.” Marcus held his phone out to the elder Holmes.  
“Gregory?” Mycroft asked gingerly.  
“Just tell me the kids aren’t scarred for life.” Greg said sternly.  
“I do not believe they suffered any ill effects.” Mycroft replied at the smile on Stephanie’s face.  
“Thank God.” Greg sighed, “I would have hated to have had to shoot your brother.”  
“Yes, that would have been most unpleasant for all involved.” Mycroft agreed.

 

****************************Later that evening************************

 

“Gregory?” Mycroft called softly from the living room when he heard the front door open.  
“Yes, My?” Greg answered. Walking into the room, cloths soaked through.  
“What in the world?” He asked standing and setting his book aside.  
“Sherlock. He decided that we needed to follow the suspect into the Thames.” Greg scowled.  
“Upstairs, now.” Mycroft ordered. 

“What?” Greg asked.  
“You need to get those wet clothes off and take a warm bath. It’s the middle of winter, you’ll catch cold.” Mycroft explained, grasping Greg’s hand and pulling him towards the stairs.  
“Fine.” Greg let himself be pulled along, before pausing halfway up the steps. “My?” Greg asked.  
“Come along.” He replied.  
“Mycroft.” Greg hissed. The taller man turned around to look at him.  
“Yes.”  
“Where are the kids?” Greg asked.

“Sleeping. I had the guest rooms made up for them.”  
“Thank you.” Greg replied, his frown lessening.  
“You are welcome. Now we need to get you out of those wet clothes.” He said, turning and pulling Greg up the remainder of the stairs.  
Once in the privacy of The Master bedroom, Mycroft began divesting the older man of his clothing.  
“Mycroft. I can do this myself. I’m not helpless.” Greg chuckled. The other man removed his hands immediately.  
“I’ll run a bath for you.” He replied, avoiding Greg’s eyes. He disappeared into the en-suite.

Greg shook his head as he finished removing his shirt and trousers. He still had trouble reading Mycroft’s moods. The man was a constant contradiction. Greg removed his pants, gathered his soaked clothing, and walked into the en-suite. Mycroft was bent over the large tub, his hand mixing something into the bath water. Greg smiled to himself as he placed his things into the hamper. He then walked up behind his lover and wrapped his arms around the man. Mycroft went rigid. Greg nuzzled the back of the taller man’s neck, inhaling the masculine sent of his cologne. 

“Gregory?” Mycroft whispered.  
“You’re warm.” Greg sighed. Mycroft turned in his lovers arms.  
“You’re chilled to the bone.” He said, placing a hand on Greg’s chest and running the other up and down his arm.  
“Maybe you should warm me up.” Greg replied with a cheeky grin.  
“You’ll be warm, if you behave and step into the bath I have prepared for you.” Mycroft replied, stepping away towards the bedroom.

“You’re doing it again, My.” The taller man stopped at the door. “What’s got you all upset?” Greg asked.  
“I…I wanted to…I fear it may have been too soon to bring the children into this.” Mycroft replied softly. Greg moved towards him.  
“You’re upset about earlier. Sherlock leaving that gift for you and the kids finding it. I’m sure it was shocking to all involved; but if Stephanie was giggling, then no harm done.” Greg placed a hand on the man’s arm.  
“I do not think they like me.” Mycroft sighed.  
“Give them time to get used to the idea of us together. It’s new, like the ex’s latest boy toy moving in…” Greg paused. He hadn’t even thought about how much things had changed for them since the divorce. “It’s not you, My. The ex has a new boy toy about every other month and I’m sure it confuses them.” Greg pulled Mycroft back towards the tub. “Stephanie seems to be coping, but I’m worried about Marcus.” 

“He’s…he needs someone to talk to, Gregory.” Mycroft replied, grasping the older man’s hands in his own.  
“What do you mean?” Greg asked.  
“He needs to talk to you, but has been unable to… express himself.” Mycroft kissed Greg’s hands.  
“He’s…I’ll talk with him tomorrow. You’ll spend the day with Stephanie.” Greg said, pulling his hands back. “Now…about that bath.” He grinned trailing a hand down the front of Mycroft’s suit. 

************************The next day**************************

“So. What’s the plan for today, Da?” Stephanie asked once the four of them had finished breakfast.  
“Well…I thought that Marcus and I could spend some time together; while you interrogate Mycroft.” Greg smiled and gave the taller man a wink. Mycroft blushed and turned to look at Stephanie.  
“So, what do you do for fun?” Stephanie asked.  
“I…I don’t have much leisure time, but I enjoy reading.” Mycroft honestly didn’t know what to tell her. He rarely had time to himself that he did not spend with Greg. 

“Reading?” Stephanie asked skeptically. Mycroft blushed.  
“What did you expect him to say, sis. That he and Da spend all their free time go…ow...” Marcus rubbed the back of his head and looked at his Da.  
“Ha.” Stephanie giggled.  
“Not appropriate, young man.” Greg growled. He gave Mycroft an apologetic look.  
Mycroft cleared his throat. “Perhaps you would like to see the music room.” He stood from the table.  
“I would love to!” Stephanie replied with a wide grin. “What do you play?” She asked as the taller man led her out of the dining room.

Once alone Greg turned to attention back to Marcus.  
“Sorry. I shouldn’t have been so rude.” The boy replied.  
“Look, Marcus. I know things haven’t easy since the divorce, but…”  
“She’s been terrible… almost every guy she’s been with since you left has turned out to be a complete loser.”  
“I’m sorry. You can be sure that I’ll be talking to your mum about this.” 

“Are things good with you and…” Marcus nodded his head towards the door.  
“Very.” Greg replied.  
“Stephanie wants to come live with the two of you.”  
“What about you? What do you want?” Greg asked.

“I want a stable home.” Marcus sighed, “and someone who…” He looked away.  
“Someone who understands you?” Greg asked quietly.  
Marcus looked back at Greg. “Mum’s new boyfriend…he found…magazines in my pack…”  
“Magazines? Like girly magazines.”  
“No…”  
“Ah.” Greg scratched the back of his neck nervously. “Well…I…”  
“I’m gay, Da!” Marcus all but yelled.  
“Well that was sort of implied with the magazine bit, wasn’t it?” Greg replied, standing from the table.  
“I…well yeah I guess it was.” Marcus mumbled.  
“Still love yah.” Greg chuckled pulling Marcus from his seat and into a tight hug.  
“Love you too, Da.” Marcus mumbled as he hugged his father in return.

*****************************The Music Room***********************

“So you’ve got a room full of musical instruments and you don’t play?” Stephanie asked.  
“I never said I didn’t play.” Mycroft replied.  
“Mmmm. That’s why there’s a layer of dust on everything.” Stephanie ran a finger over the surface of the grand piano.  
“In truth, I haven’t played in years.” He replied, sitting down at the piano and revealing its keys.  
“But you can play?” Stephanie asked, sitting down next to him. Mycroft played a few notes, which were slightly off-key.

“I’m a bit rusty.” He gave her a weak smile. Stephanie replied by playing a few keys of “twinkle-twinkle little star”.  
“Amusing,” he answered with a few notes of his own.  
“I thought so.” She smiled before really setting to work her hands over the keys. She began to play the beginnings of a piece by Bach. Mycroft looked at her with a softened expression.  
“What?” She asked at his curious expression. “I thought you were a classical type of man.”  
“Indeed I am.” He replied.  
“Feel free to join at any time.” She replied.

Mycroft’s fingers began gliding over the keys with determined perfection. “You’ve had lessons.” It was more a deduction that question.  
“Yes. I’ve liked playing since I was young. Da had me start lessons when I was five. I guess I took to it extremely well.”  
“I would say you have a natural talent that not many possess.” Mycroft replied.  
“Thank you. You’re pretty good for being rusty.” Stephanie giggled. Mycroft returned her smile. 

 

***********************Baker Street*************************

 

“Sherlock?” John called out when he found the main living area of the flat empty. “Mrs. Hudson.”  
“Behind you, dear.” John turned to see her standing in the doorway of the kitchen and stairwell.  
“Have you seen Sherlock?” He asked.  
“He’s feeling under the weather. I think that swim he took last night is what did it.” She replied, a bowl of hot liquid in her hands.  
“Is he alright?” John asked, “He seemed fine when I went to bed last night.” John said, concerned.  
“He hasn’t been taking good care of himself, which has left his immune system highly compromised.”  
A low rumbling growl came from Sherlock’s room. 

“I should get this soup to him before he throws a fit and destroys the whole flat.” She moved down the hall towards the younger Holmes’ bedroom. Another low, pained growl came from the room as Mrs. Hudson opened the door. Curious, John followed her into the room. He had never really been one to frighten easily; but the sight before him terrified John beyond anything the war had thrown at him. For the first time in his life he was truly afraid. 

“What the hell is that!” John yelled. Protruding out from underneath the blankets was a long black tail. The lump shifted and a large snout poked out; nostrils flaring.  
“Now Sherlock, behave.” Mrs. Hudson put the bowl of soup down on the bedside table.  
“Sherlock! Mrs. Hudson…that’s a beast….” John cried.  
“Oh, dear. Did he not tell you?” She gasped.  
“Tell me? Tell me what; that he had a great big beast for a pet?” John hissed. 

The lump on the bed moved again; this time it began to decrease in size until it was just the bulk of a pillow. When it moved towards the edge of the blankets, John took a precautionary step backwards. Mrs. Hudson lifted up the edge to reveal a miniature dragon. 

“Forgive me, John.” It spoke, moving closer to Mrs. Hudson.  
“Sh…Sherlock?” John stuttered in horror.  
“I wanted to tell you….I should ha…” Sherlock rasped.  
“Bloody right you should have. “ John replied taking a deep breath. “So is…”  
“Yes, Mr. Holmes is also a dragon.” Mrs. Hudson interjected.  
“Who else knows?” John asked, shifting weight to the other foot. 

“That handsome detective Inspector.” She replied. Sherlock attempted to make a gaging noise, which only resulted in his sneezing so hard that he accidentally spit fire at the carpet. “Oh, poor thing.” She cooed. “Here I brought you some soup to make you feel better.” Sherlock turned his face away.  
“It’s your brother’s recipe for colds. He first gave it to me when you moved in. He said that you were prone to throat trouble.” She said picking up the bowl and spoon, and sitting on the edge of the bed next to the little dragon. Sherlock’s head whipped around to sniff at the liquid, his tongue flicking out to wet his lips. He looked up at Mrs. Hudson expectantly.

“That’s what I thought.” She lifted a spoon full of the hot liquid to the dragon’s awaiting lips. His tongue wrapped around the spoon and drew it in between his lips. He let out a low pleased growl.  
“That’s better, isn’t it?” She smiled, drawing the spoon back.  
“What’s in it?” John asked.  
“I have no idea, dear. Mr. Holmes brings me a large batch of it every few months. I believe that it is an old herbal brew, judging by the strong smell of peppermint.” She replied, standing. She held out the bowl and spoon to John. “Why don’t you take care of him while I call Mr. Holmes.” John took them and he was rewarded with a look of impatience from Sherlock. 

“Right.” John said to himself. He took Mrs. Hudson’s place on the bed and dipped the spoon into the bowl.  
“This is the most surreal moment of my life.” John offered the spoon. Sherlock took it with little fuss. “How in the world have you been hiding this?” He asked, continuing to spoon-feed the dragon.  
“Very carefully.” Sherlock answered with a rasped voice. John fed him another spoon full.  
“Pity the only way to get you to eat something, is if you’re sick.” John replied. Sherlock snorted, resulting in a series of violent sneezes. His whole body shook with little tremors afterwards.  
“Sorry.” John winced, giving the dragon a sympathetic look. Sherlock moved closer to John. He cuddled up next to him. He placed his head in the shorter man’s lap. John gave him a small smile. 

*************************************

“My?” Greg knocked on the door of the man’s study.  
“Enter,” came his reply. Greg pushed open the door and stepped inside. Mycroft was typing away on his laptop. “One moment, Gregory.” He didn’t look up when Greg moved to stand in front of his desk.

Greg had never been in this room before; it was part of Mycroft’s private domain. As he looked around he began to notice something about his lover that he had not before. The shelves were filled with very old books, little knick-knacks, and baubles. Greg smiled to himself. It seemed that Mycroft Holmes was a collector. 

“Something amusing?” Mycroft asked, laptop now closed and hands folded on top of it.  
“Never thought you would fall into any stereotype.” Greg chuckled. Mycroft looked at him, perplexed. “You’re a collector.” Greg nodded to the shelves adjacent to the desk.  
“Ah. I have received and given many gifts during my career.” He stood and rounded the desk.  
“You sure that’s all it is?” Greg teased.  
“I assure you that I am not hording a mass of gold and jewels.” Mycroft replied with a smirk.  
“Was that a crack at The Hobbit?” Greg asked. 

“Maybe.” He moved closer into Greg’s space, “Now was there something you needed?” He breathed.  
“Uh…” Greg had suddenly forgotten what it was he came into the office for.  
“Yes?” Mycroft reached for Greg’s hand.  
“I…um…” Greg stammered, breathing heavily.  
“You have a phone in your hand. Something to do with that, perhaps?” Greg looked down at their joined hands.  
“What? Oh, yeah.” He handed Mycroft the phone. “Mrs. Hudson called. Said it was urgent; but not dire.” Greg had started to breath normally. 

“Did she happen to mention what it was concerning this time?” Mycroft asked.  
“Something about an old family recipe.” Mycroft’s eyes widened.  
“What?” Greg asked with concern.  
“I believe my brother may be ill.” Mycroft looked at the phone and began to dial.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading.
> 
> This chapter concludes part two of my DragonLock series. I will be posting part three chapter one soon. 
> 
> Also, the plot thickens with part three; which is the main part of the story.
> 
> So I will be posting some information, like an index: may contain spoilers, but should help with any confusion or misunderstandings that come up along the way. If not, please feel free to ask for clarification.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. I hope you have enjoyed my story. Please feel free to leave kudos and constructive criticism.


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